


Regard to whom you send regards

by 1thirteen3



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Based loosely, Captain Jon Stark, Colonel Robb Stark, F/M, Fluff, Jon is a Stark, Margaery is confused about the order in which military titles are conferred, Pride and Prejudice mini series and I was in the mood, Regency Era AU, Robb is the older brother, Romance, Unrequited Love, and I mean very very loosely, basically it just takes its central premise, but set in the regency era because my quarantine go to is the BBC, letter writing, on the play Cyrano de Bergerac, that is actually requited, that is also actually requited, unrequited pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24027862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1thirteen3/pseuds/1thirteen3
Summary: Well aware of her precarious future in society, Daenerys Targaryen does her best to enjoy her life, while she endeavours to refrain from any kind of romantic feelings - as she knows these cannot possibly go anywhere for her.Unfortunately, her heart has other ideas and she falls deeply in love with Jon Stark. Though, she knows this is a hopeless love for her.When the men are called off to war, her dear friend Margaery (who is secretly in love with Robb Stark) asks a favour of her, she wants to write letters to her love while he is away at war, but she doesn't have a way with words the way that Dany does. She asks: will Dany write the letters for her, in her name?Wanting to help her friend, Dany readily agrees. But then Margaery discloses that her love is Captain Stark (Jon). Dany is heartbroken, but agrees because she wants both her friend and her love to be happy. Even if it is without her.Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately... Margaery does not know the order in which military ranks are conferred. Dany believes she is writing to Jon, her only chance, even if under another's name, to tell him how she feels - while Margaery believes Captain Stark is actually Robb...
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, robb stark / margaery tyrell (Minor)
Comments: 54
Kudos: 71





	Regard to whom you send regards

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter requires a bit of set up. But things move pretty quickly from here on out

The day is warm, with a gentle breeze. Perfect for an outside gathering such as this.

Finely dressed ladies and gentlemen are idling about. Mingling, gossiping and laughing. Dancing, drinking and eating.

Dany sat on the outskirts of it all. Situated near a pretty pond, watching from a distance. She knows she should be joining in. That she should be socialising cheerfully with everyone, as this will be the final gathering of its kind for who knows how long, as the young men, her childhood friends will soon be heading off to war.

She spies a group of her close acquaintances forming a circle, about to begin another dance.

But she cannot move herself, nor her spirits to merriment. This new war, like so many the Crown has undertaken in recent, and not so recent times, does not feel right to her.

She understands the concepts used to rally and motivate the soldiers, the officers. Honour. Duty. Country. And she finds these, as concepts, noble and amiable. Admirable traits in any man.

But concepts without context are dangerous. And it is the context she takes issue with.

Regardless, very few people want to hear her opinion on the matter, save a select, and treasured few. And so, she sits alone. Silently, pensively observing what could be the last assembly some of these young men might ever attend.

She knows she is being dramatic with that thought. These men, her friends, are gentleman. They are going to war as Lieutenants, Captains, Colonels. They will be planning, strategizing, passing out orders. They are not infantrymen who will be sent to the frontlines.

She feels deeply for the infantrymen. For they too have families, friends, loved ones who will mourn their passing. Yet, their station in life provides them with no other option. They have been called to war, and so, to war they must go. No matter their rank.

She sighs deeply to herself, troubled by the unfair thought. So much in life is determined by ones place in society.

She is shamefully aware of how privileged she is. She is entirely cognisant that her woes are nothing to that of a poor infantryman. But she _is_ conscious of the deterministic role ones place in society has on the shaping of their lives.

Dany learned of her own precarious future in society around the same time she made her debut into society at the age of fifteen.

She had been doted on, and adored as a child. She was sweet, and beautiful. Not a single person who knew her considered that she would ever have difficulty catching a fine husband. And even if she somehow did have trouble, she had two older brothers who would always love, protect, and care for her.

However, all that changed one fateful day, not long after her fourteenth birthday, when Rhaegar and Viserys were both killed in a terrible hunting accident.

And suddenly, Dany’s prospects, despite her many charms, evaporated.

Just like that, she was left with nothing more to recommend herself than her family name. 

It was a well respected name to be certain. But the death of their two eldest children had taken a toll on her dear parents. Her mother weathered it well enough, or perhaps she merely forced herself to appear as though she did. For her poor father had handled the loss of his two sons, his heirs, with a weighty grief. And before long at all, his melancholy had spread its dark tendrils into his business dealings resulting in the family’s once vast fortune to diminish to the point of near depletion.

Their name was all they had left.

Once the worst of her own grief had passed, she began to realise what all of this meant for her.

Naturally, the abrupt change in her circumstances, and the outlook for her future had distressed her greatly at first.

However, as she grew older, and spent more time in society, she realised that it also gave her a peculiar type of freedom which was denied to other young women of her acquaintance.

Set upon with the certain knowledge that she could not possibly hope to find a husband amongst the men with whom her family associated, she summarily decided that her own behaviour could be less restricted than the behaviour of her female peers.

She did not have to flirt, and charm. She did not have to take pains to always present herself as appealing and agreeable. Pliable and pleasing. 

She could form friendships with the men without pretensions. And they, in turn, were unguarded, and open around her. Knowing, as they did, that she had no ulterior motive but for their honest companionship.

Similarly, the other young ladies, knowing her situation, flocked to her as a neutral friend, and confidante. Seeing as she was no threat to their own aspirations, they considered her a perfect companion. And she came to love them all as dearly as sisters. 

Because she did not have to devote her energy to enthralling, and captivating – always taking care to seem fascinating without appearing overwhelming – she had time to pursue and nurture her own interests.

Unhampered by propriety, she was at liberty to be unconventional. Unworried about scaring off potential suitors with her improper or unsuitable diversions, as there were no suitors to be had for her, she found a number of amusing activities with which to entertain and occupy herself. She developed a keen interest in history and politics, she cultivated, and tended a wild, glorious, maze of a garden at Dragonstone full of bright flowers, creeping vines, and sturdy fruit trees, she took to riding her horse with a passionate fervour, and galivanted all over the countryside whenever she felt the want to.

All in all, she made the best of her situation. 

She had been determined to enjoy the pleasures and company of society, while strictly instructing herself to remain aloof from any entanglements. As any such attachments were, for her, a lost cause. Destined to end only in anguish, and sorrow. 

And yet, despite her own warnings. Despite her very self. She had fallen in love.

She had fallen in love with Jon Stark.

She had not meant to. It had simply happened.

By exempting herself from social propriety, and allowing herself to discuss her opinions freely, she had laid the trap to which she fell in to. For Jon Stark, taking her openness at face value, rewarded hers with his own, and it quickly became apparent to her that they were a matched set.

Like her, Jon is a dreamer. That is not to say that he is lazy or idle. He is neither of those things. He is as active and lively as a young man ought to be. But he wants more from life, thinks always of the bigger picture, considers nothing certain. He listens attentively, and gives his opinions assertively. She admires this about him greatly.

Some young ladies call him brooding, and believe that is something to swoon over. But Dany knows better, knows _him_ better.

He is not brooding. He is contemplative, reflective. She thinks him more a philosopher than a brooder. He is discerning and agentive.

Indeed, she despises it when people sigh and say how brooding he is. How they say it as though that one word encapsulates his entire being, describes him in his totality. She believes it does his character a great disservice, for, to her, the word calls to mind a pouting child denied a treat, not the serious, thoughtful, perceptive, and effective man she knows Jon to be.

She had heard that Jon was to be a Captain in the upcoming war. While his brother Robb, being a year older, was to be a Colonel.

Jon will do well as a Captain. This she knows. He will be respected for he is respectable and, in turn, he gives respect where it is earned. He is a natural leader in a way that Robb, for all his easy charms and pleasant manners, is not.

Not that she doesn’t think well of Robb. She does, very much. He is lively company. But he does not feel the gravity and consequence of things in the same way that Jon does. Jon considers, always, the effect his actions will have on others. And while he has, on occasion, acted on impulse, it had always been with the very best of reasons and intentions.

Despite all this. Despite how well she thinks of him, she has never let slip any inclination she has towards him. Never given a hint of what he truly means to her. She has certainly never told him of her feelings.

She cares for Jon too dearly, and respects him too well to force him to endure the discomfort, and embarrassment of having to refuse her, as he most certainly would, their situations in life being as disparate as they are.

Though, she must admit, she also respects herself too much, and wishes to save herself the embarrassment, and heartache of having her feelings first exposed, then politely, yet summarily rejected.

As they would certainly have to be.

She would never want to take anything away from Jon, though… there are days, and nights, when she dreams, she wishes, that his situation were more akin to her own so that they might be together. Live a simple life, as simple people, in a cosy home. Have a family of their own.

But those are nought but the fantasies of a young girl. She knows her reality.

Not too far from where she sits she can see Jon, and Robb, and Margaery Tyrell. They are huddled close together and laughing heartily. She wonders what it might be about.

With the way Robb and Margaery are around one another, she would wager that, were this war not on their heels, she would be attending their wedding in the near future.

They make the most handsome couple. And they are so well suited in temperament, and disposition. Both with happy manners, and happy hearts.

She does worry about her future sometimes. She cannot help but do so. What will become of her following her father’s passing? She does not know to whom his estate, Dragonstone, her home, will be entailed to. They have little family, and the lawyers are still working on finding the nearest, viable, legal, male relative. She only knows that she will have to leave when that dreaded day occurs. It pains her greatly to think of, so she tries not to ruminate on it too often.

She is certain she will figure something out. She has been told she is resilient, and stubborn to the point of being vexing.

Perhaps she will find work as a lady’s maid. It would be a step down in terms of her social status, but such things had never bothered Dany much. The only things that will bother her about it will be the loss of her friends. And the loss of Jon.

Even though Jon never was, and never will be, hers to lose.

Jon is enjoying the day as best he can. He figures he should get in as much enjoyment as possible before his life becomes nothing but another war, demanded by a Crown which he does not have complete faith in.

And he is enjoying himself. Watching Robb make a fool of himself trying to impress Miss Margaery is exceptionally amusing. But something is missing. Or, more specifically, someone.

He cannot seem to find Miss Daenerys amongst the party.

And he wants to find her. Desperately. He wants to talk to her about this war. Ask her opinion of it. See what she thinks of his own.

He has had many people commend him today. Many people ask what he will do with his charge as Captain. But hers is the only opinion he wants to hear.

Besides that, he gets anxious when he cannot find her.

He admits he is very protective of her.

Her situation is unfortunate indeed. With the Targaryen fortune, or lack thereof, being what it is, and her family estate to be entailed away upon her father’s passing, Daenerys really has nothing to recommend her but her charms. Of which, admittedly, she has many. She dances lightly, sings sweetly, and she posseses a sharp intelligence, and astounding wit which never fails to have him laughing and delighted.

She is unique. Special. She deserves the best. She deserves so much more than what society has dictated she resign herself to.

Yes, indeed it was a shame for her. Had she wealth, she could have her pick of any gentleman in the country. For she was uncommonly beautiful. Truly a rare flower. Or, were she stupider, it was likely she could make, at the very least, a respectable match with a solicitor, or country doctor. A man who wanted a simple wife to keep his home, and raise his children.

But Daenerys is not stupid. No indeed. She is political, and opinionated. A dreamer. A fiery idealist. She believes that women should have the right to vote, and woe to any man woman or child that disagrees with her on that. She thinks the monarchy, and gentry alike hold too much power over the lives of the people of the country. And she is extremely critical of the way in which the Crown handles disputes with the indigenous people of the lands it has conquered.

Jon agrees with her on all scores. Though, while she has the beautiful, brazen tenacity to claim her opinions to all and sundry, he, with his position in his family, can only talk about these matters of great import with her. Which is one of the many reasons why he considers her his dearest friend, and why he always has one eye searching for her whereabouts at assemblies such as these.

Because, as cumbersome, and smothering as it feels most of the time, his position in his family is important. While he may only be the second son – with Robb, just over a year older than him, the heir to Winterfell, the family estate – Jon himself has been promised an estate of his choosing upon matrimony as a gift from his father.

And it is because of his father’s generosity in bestowing him such a gift, that Jon, despite being the second son, has found himself the centre of much unwanted, often silly, attention from many distinguished young ladies of marriageable age. Though he is self aware enough to know that these attentions only come from young ladies who have, generally, already tried, and failed, to capture his older brother’s affections.

He should be flattered by the attention. That is what everybody tells him. But it only serves to frustrate him, and make him sad. He wants to marry. Very much. Nothing would please him more than to have a wife, and children to call his own. But he is determined that he will marry for nothing less than the deepest feelings of love. A love built on companionship, understanding, and a complementary duality of thought and opinion.

He respects his parents very much. But he knows they did not marry out of love. And he has seen the subtle strain that places on even the most mundane of everyday interactions. He also knows that his stance is not considered normal. It is his duty to marry, and marry well. A fine woman of good birth and breeding. Someone befitting of his family’s status in society.

And yet… yet, that is not what he wants. The mould itches, and scrapes. It does not fit who he is. He does not want to marry someone who just so happens to conveniently encompass those characteristics. He does not want to marry someone who simply desires the status, comfort, and wealth which he could provide.

Which made it strange, perhaps, that the only young lady he had ever considered having any serious designs on was Miss Daenerys Targaryen. The one, and only young lady of his acquaintance who would universally, unequivocally be accused by the masses of only desiring the status, comfort, and wealth he could provide had she ever attempted to gain his attentions and affections.

Though, she never had.

She was amiable of course. Indeed, she is the most delightful, free spirited, and unconventional person he knows. She is lively, and energetic. Passionate. She takes great pleasure in horse riding - though the way she rides is enough to put her mother in a faint, and her father in his cups – but it thoroughly amuses, and enamours him. They share many interests, and ideas. They have the most diverting conversations. They have read many of the same books, and have the most engaging discussions and debates about them.

She was, he was certain, a perfect match for him in every way.

Would that she had ever shown any particular interest he would have proposed to her long ago.

He cared not for what his father might think. He cared not for her dowry. He cared for _her_.

But she had never acted towards him in that way that women acted when they were vying for courtship.

Certainly, she exhibited a particular preference for his companionship above others. She sought out his company openly, readily, and often. However, it was always for conversation and sport, not, it would seem, for romance. And he would greedily take what he could have of her. Despite his longing for more.

But she never gave him those beguiling smiles, unwarranted giggles, or flutterings of her eyelashes that were, in his experience, the arsenal of a woman desirous of more than friendship.

He wishes that she would.

Not that he needs, nor even appreciates the falsities and flatteries… Indeed, from a woman as forthright and honest as Miss Daenerys, those actions would somehow seem even falser.

Really, it is as simple as the fact that he wishes she felt for him the same way he felt for her.

Really, it was as simple as the fact that he loved her. And he wished that she loved him too.

A week after the assembly, the men had departed for the war.

Dany, like everyone else, had shown up to wave them goodbye, and wish them well.

Being rather on the shorter side, she had had to crane her neck, and jump in a most unladylike fashion, in order to catch one last glimpse of Jon. She was going to miss him most ardently, and she could not bear the thought of him leaving, for an undetermined amount of time, without setting her eyes on him.

Finally, after many energetic, and exhausting jumps, she saw him.

He looked so very well, so very handsome in his uniform, all focus and determination as he marched, in unison with the others, through the street towards the coaches that would take them to their posting.

Well, he _had_ appeared focused until, from the corner of his eye, he had spied her, bouncing like a madwoman, her head popping above the crowd, disappearing, then popping above it again as she leapt and waved frantically, shouting out her blessings.

Even from far away she could see his beautiful eyes sparkle in amusement at the sight of her bobbing head, and his lips purse together in an attempt to hold in his laughter, hide his smile, and maintain his stoic demeanour.

The sight of his endearing struggle to keep his composure had her laughing aloud – for she had no constraints on whether she could do so or not – and the sound of her mirth, travelling along with the wind to reach him, finally cracked his resolve.

Just as he turned the corner and out of sight, she saw his lips quirk up in a smile.

Her heart sung at the knowledge that the last picture she would have of him in her mind until he returned would be him smiling because of her. No matter that it was because she looked a fool. She would make a fool of herself every single day if it would bring a smile to his lips, and a light to his eyes.

A few days later, Margaery came to call on Dany at home.

She was delighted to see her friend and, as it was a lovely day, organised for them to take tea in her garden.

It wasn’t until they were settled that she noticed how uneasy Margaery seemed. Her eyes were darting about, and she was plucking at the skirt of her dress absently.

Dany grasped the wayward hands warmly between her own, and moved to catch Margaery’s eye.

“My friend, whatever is the matter? Is something distressing you? Please tell me. You are worrying me.” She asked with real concern, for this behaviour was far from the normal countenance of her easy going companion.

“Oh, Dany, I apologise. I did not mean to worry you. Please forgive me. I am fine truly I am. I just… I have something to ask of you, and I have no idea how to ask it.”

Dany smiled with relief that nothing was actually amiss. “Why simply ask me, of course. You are one of my dearest friends. You know there is nothing I would refuse you.”

“You really are the sweetest, Dany,” Margaery replied smiling back at her. “But what I want to ask… it is a little… Well, odd? I suppose I am embarrassed to ask it.”

“Well, now I am most exquisitely intrigued, and demand that you ask me at once,” Dany responded playfully, squeezing Margaery’s hands comfortingly. “I would never judge you. I promise.”

Margaery took a deep breath and lowered her eyes, clearly still embarrassed, despite Dany’s reassurances.

“Alright I… Someone has stolen my heart, Dany,” Margaery declared rapidly, blushing becomingly, “And I believe I may have stolen his too,” she admitted biting her lip gently, and Dany could see the happiness this notion bought to her friend. It made her happy for her. “But with him now away at war, I am concerned, terrified actually, that he might forget me.”

“Darling Margaery, no one could ever be able to forget you. No one would be that foolish.”

“But I am afraid he might. And I would die if that happened, Dany.” she declared passionately. “I would. I love him so very much. And so, I wanted to write to him, while he was away. To keep me in his thoughts. So that he knows I am thinking of him… but I have tried, in vain, these past three days to formulate a letter that portrays all that I want to say. No matter what I write it comes out wrong. And you, my dear friend, you are so very good with words. So much better with them than I. And so, I came to ask you, to beg you really, would you… would you write the letter for me?”

“You want me to write to your sweetheart on your behalf?” Dany inquired, rather confused.

Margaery fidgeted a little, “No, I… I meant… I was hoping you would write the letter as me, as though it was from me. Sign it with my name.”

“Oh,” Dany responded, comprehension dawning. “So, I would be impersonating you?”

“Yes,” Margaery nodded, “technically yes, I suppose. The letter would be, for all intents and purposes, from me to him. It would just be far more articulate than what I can manage if you were to write it. Please, Dany. I cannot lose him.”

Dany saw the look of genuine fear of potential lost love on Margaery’s beautiful face and knew immediately that she would, that she _must_ , do this for her friend.

“Of course I will do this for you, dear Margaery.”

Margaery beamed in response. “Oh, thank you, Dany. Thank you. You really are the kindest person.”

Dany smiled cheekily at her, “And so, may I know the name of the man to whom I will be writing as you?” she teased.

“Surely you must know,” Margaery replied, giddy now that Dany had agreed.

Dany had an inkling, of course, but it was so fun to tease her friend.

“I think it would be best you tell me, lest I write to the wrong person and have you wind up in a love affair with a different man entirely.” Dany laughed.

Margaery laughed too. “How right you are. What a mess that would be.” She leaned forward conspiringly, “It is Captain Stark, of course.”

Dany felt her blood run cold.

It couldn’t be. Could it?

She knew she had no claim to Jon. Nor any hope of ever having one. But the idea of him being taken. The idea of him and Margaery. The idea of Margaery loving him, and him loving her in return was almost too painful to be borne.

And all this time she had thought that Margaery had eyes only for Robb.

Margaery and Robb made more sense. They had so much more in common. They were a much more likely match.

Why would Margaery, the only daughter of the wealthiest family in the region, settle for the second son – albeit of the second wealthiest family in the region – when it was apparent to anyone with eyes that the heir to Winterfell was enamoured with her?

Dany cursed herself for being so uncharitable towards her friend. Margaery was not shallow, and she certainly had no need to marry up. She was free to follow her heart, and clearly her heart wanted Jon – and, apparently, as painful as it was for her, his wanted her as well. She doubly cursed herself for being so uncharitable towards Jon, who was every bit as good, and wonderful, and deserving as his brother. If not more so in her opinion.

She thought back to when she saw the three of them together at the assembly just over a week ago. They had all been laughing, having a merry time. She had thought she saw something between Robb and Margaery… but perhaps her eyes were only seeing what they wanted to see. Perhaps that spark she saw had been between Margaery and Jon instead.

She had to be certain.

“Captain Stark? Not Colonel Stark?” she asked gingerly, fearful of the answer which would confirm her misery.

Margaery laughed gaily. “Of course it is Captain Stark. I thought everybody could see it. He is so noble, so dashing. Colonel Stark is a fine man, of course, but it is his brother who has captured my heart. Oh, Dany, thank you, thank you for saying you’ll do this for me.”

Dany’s heart sunk within her aching chest.

She could not back out of her promise now. Nor would she. Both Jon and Margaery deserved all the happiness in the world, and if she could help them achieve that then she would. She must. For she loved them both.

Jon was never hers to have. He never could have been.

But at least now she could help him, in this small way, attain the life and happiness that she wishes for him. The life that he deserves. Margaery is sweet, and kind, and beautiful. She will make him a wonderful wife. Together they will live a charmed life.

And she will be happy for them.

She must.

She has no other option. She never did. 

“You have no need to thank me, Margaery,” she said, grateful that her voice was only a little husky with grief, “I only want for you to be happy, and I am honoured to be able to help you attain that happiness.”

Margaery leapt to her feet, pulling Dany with her, and embraced her tightly. “You are the best of friends.”

Dany hugged her back just as tightly, truly thinking that holding on to Margaery might be the only thing stopping her from sinking to the ground in despair at this moment.

Between them, Margaery excitedly, and Dany numbly, they decided that Dany would write the letter that night, then Margaery would come back tomorrow to pick it up so that she may copy it in her own handwriting upon her own stationery before sending it off to the ‘incomparable Captain Stark’ – Margaery’s words, which Dany concurred with wholeheartedly.

After Margaery left, Dany retired to her room and allowed herself to cry the tears that had been begging release ever since Margaery had declared who her love was.

She pulled herself together eventually and sat herself at her small writing desk.

She took a deep breath, and pictured in her mind, the image of Jon’s smile just before he turned that last corner.

He deserved to always be smiling. And if he loved Margaery, as Margaery claimed, and Margaery loved him in return, then he would always be smiling.

And while she wanted to be the one to always make him smile, she knew she could not.

But, as small a solace as it was, she now had this opportunity.

She had never allowed herself to flirt with Jon. Never allowed herself to give away how she truly felt about him. She had a thousand and more words she wished she could have said to him left unspoken…

And now she could speak them freely. She could put voice to her feelings, she could tell him all the things she had always wanted to tell him… she would just be doing so in disguise.

She felt a coward.

But, she would be making two of her very dearest friends happy.

A small comfort indeed, but at least she would get a chance to say what she felt for him, express what lived inside her heart. He would read her words, and while he would never know they came from her, she would try and find peace in the idea that at least she had conveyed her devotion to him finally…

It would have to be enough for her.

_Dear Captain Stark,_

She wrote.

And then, suddenly, her quill was flying. She could not stop herself from pouring out her deepest sentiments, all that she felt for him, the depths of her very heart, and soul – for that is where he lived within her – onto the page.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading


End file.
